Sweet Surrender
by Emerson Quinn
Summary: Oneshot. Christine reflects on her betrayal of Erik, the meaning of the red scarf and love. Lyrics are Sarah McLachlan Sweet Surrender.


_**Sweet Surrender**_

_**It doesn't mean much  
It doesn't mean anything at all  
The life I've left behind me  
Is a cold room**_

I've closed the door behind me now. I've shut out the dancers, the admirers, the managers, Raoul...I've shut out the world. None of that matters to me now. The glitter, the encores...it is all part of another life. It seems so long ago. Even though I was surrounded by people, drowning under a sea of flowers and praise, I still felt alone...and cold inside. Nothing could warm me, not the music, the lights, Raoul's embraces. Nothing but him. My teacher, my angel, my other half...Erik.

_**  
I've crossed the last line  
From where I can't return  
Where every step I took in faith  
Betrayed me  
And led me from my home**_

I'd believed at the beginning, and rather foolishly at that, it was possible to keep them separate, confined each to his own world. I could be with one of them there, not thinking of the other. But Erik's power reaches up from the catacombs, through my dressing room mirror, onto the stage...even up to the roof. I swear the statues are his spies, the gargoyles his agents...they all listen with stone-cold intensity and report my every betrayal and misstep to him.

And Raoul...Raoul threatened to go down himself, find a passage to the underground lake and challenge Erik. I begged him, horrified, not to go. I did not hedge a bet as to who would survive. I did not need to.

So I've made a choice...that final, penultimate decision. I cannot go back to the life I knew. I cannot go on to a life with Raoul. My home, my life, is here, at the Opera. I will not leave it...I cannot leave my music. I am past the point of no return...

_**  
And  
Sweet surrender  
Is all that I have to give  
**_

And so I will let go...let go of Raoul, of my childhood fantasies and fairy-tale ideas. Let go of the memories of my father, the countryside...and my red scarf weighed down with the sea-water...salty like tears. I've already gone back to the roof, back up to the scene of my betrayal, like Judas returning to the garden of Gethsemane. Up and up I went, with that red scarf wrapped around my neck, and wrapped snugly. It was an appropriate allegory to the life it represented. I would never sing again if I stayed with Raoul.

I reached the roof, went to the edge...looked up to the stars. I wondered, briefly, hopefully, if the gargoyles were watching now...he needed to know I was doing this. I had untwined the silk from my neck, held it out to the night...and let go. I watched it disappear ...neither I nor the statues made a sound. That was my sacrifice...my surrender.

_**You take me in**_

_**No questions asked  
You strip away the ugliness  
That surrounds me**_

When I'd first heard his voice, seeping like an unearthly mist from under my mirror, I had been absolutely miserable. Even though I was surrounded by the beauty of the opera, it was still a farce. I felt completely useless, like a wilting flower. Papa was wrong...I did not belong here! I would never be the lovely diva he'd always envisioned.

Then I heard him. He made me believe, in the music, in the farcical beauty, and in myself. He peeled back the layers of dead leaves and dying petals to reveal the delicate rose he claimed me to be. I'd never felt more alive.

_**  
Are you an angel?  
Am I already that gone?  
I only hope  
That I won't disappoint you**_

Papa had promised me the Angel of Music...surely the voice belonged only to him. Nothing on earth could be so beautiful. Perhaps, I had thought, I was closer to Heaven than I realized...if I could hear the voice of an angel! Surely I was unworthy of such a gift. I vowed to give _everything _to him...mind, body, soul. I would sing until my very breath gave out...even if I died onstage, I would not disappoint him.

_**  
When I'm down here  
On my knees**_

_**And sweet surrender  
Is all that I have to give  
**_

So I fell to my knees in front of the impassive mirror. I vowed to worship him forever...I surrendered to him completely.

_**  
And I don't understand  
By the touch of your hand  
I would be the one to fall**_

Such heights I attained with him...such glorious triumphs. But I was so intent on looking into that mirror...that I didn't see reality coming until it blindsided me in the form of Raoul. That's when I fell. Oh, I regained my footing, walking precariously on that line between the two, but Erik withdrew a little. I tried to pretend that I wasn't killing Erik slowly...treacherously. But my angel was there on the roof that night, when I placed that Judas kiss on my childhood sweetheart, and it was he and not the Vicomte I betrayed. How many gold pieces did I gain from it? How many silk scarves would adorn my neck now? I would pay my own price...they strangled the song in my throat. I didn't care then...not when I was wrapped in Raoul's embrace. Erik had never touched me as the Vicomte did now...now Raoul's arms were there when angel wings weren't, and I was prepared to fall into them.

_**  
I miss the little things  
I miss everything (about you)  
**_

I haven't seen Erik for three months...haven't spoken to him, heard him...or sensed his presence in all that time. I have begged and pleaded outside this mirror, tried to return to the lake, only to find that my key no longer works. He has locked the way and his heart...and I miss him more than I had ever missed Raoul all those years. I only knew one way to atone. He wasn't answering me at the mirror...no matter how many tears I'd shed. I suddenly knew what I needed to do...I had to take that damned scarf to the roof and fling it off, let it go...prove to Erik that I'd broken my engagement with Raoul. I whispered then, to the unforgiving flat pier glass, I told the mirror what I was going to do...and I hoped he had heard me. I prayed he would follow me there. I could not go on without him any longer...

_**It doesn't mean much**_

_**It doesn't mean anything at all  
The life I left behind me  
Is a cold room  
And sweet  
Sweet surrender  
Is all that I have to give  
**_

It was, in many ways, one of the most simple and oddly unemotional things I'd ever done. It didn't mean anything to me anymore...what was it really? No promise, no symbol of undying love...just coloured silk, woven together, woven into my past, binding me to Raoul...but it was so easy to rend it away from my throat. Even though it was January, and the roof was windy and chilled...I wasn't cold for the loss of it. An odd warmth spread through me...a sense of accomplishment. I turned and hurried back to my dressing room...and I've closed the door behind me now. I can feel him behind that mirror. I am staring at it so intently, I cannot even see my own reflection...only the image of where I know he is standing. I promised him everything, and I cruelly took it away from him. I am kneeling now, arms open, eyes brimming with tears, neck unadorned. I have nothing to offer him now...nothing but my complete surrender. It is all I have to give.


End file.
